


Did you miss me?

by peachytaee



Series: dsmp lore brainrot [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Dream Team SMP References (Video Blogging RPF), Dream Team SMP Roleplay (Video Blogging RPF), Dsmp brainrot, Gen, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Prison, Resurrected Wilbur Soot, Sleepover Arc on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Spoilers, Tommy and Sam Angst, Tommyinnit brainrot, maybe idrk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:29:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29858124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachytaee/pseuds/peachytaee
Summary: He feels cold— it’s the ground(obsidian, his brain supplies,)but at the same time, the heat coming from the lava feels like a million suns hitting him full-force, he almost wants to pass out.It smells of stale carbs(potatoes, the weird warm smell of wood that he can’t describe, it smells of ink and paper with oily skin mixed in)where the hell is he?“Oh, are you finally awake now?”
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Sam | Awesamdude & TommyInnit
Series: dsmp lore brainrot [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2195196
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am brainrotting so hard on resurrected wilbur rn it's like three am
> 
> (Dream Team SMP Spoilers for recent lore streams!!!!)
> 
> 3/4/21

He knows a lot— there was so much to learn and no time to stop when he was trapped there. He was everywhere and nowhere— he knew everything but nothing at all. Most of all, he knows he shouldn’t be here. 

He feels cold— it’s the ground _(obsidian, his brain supplies,)_ but at the same time, the heat coming from the lava feels like a million suns hitting him full-force, he almost wants to pass out. 

It smells of stale carbs _(potatoes, the weird warm smell of wood that he can’t describe, it smells of ink and paper with oily skin mixed in)_ where the hell is he?

“Oh, are you finally awake now?” 

The sounds— oh god, the sounds are so loud, the lava bubbling, the rough scratching of a pencil on paper, Dream’s raspy voice— Wilbur’s hands begin to shake, and he’s not sure if it’s his muscles struggling to move after being dead _(dead— he was dead just a bit ago)_ for so long, or if it’s his mind being absolutely exhausted from that— that _place_. 

“They took Tommy away from me.” Dream hasn’t once looked up at Wilbur, but he hasn’t even opened his eyes yet _(scared it will be all too much for him)_ hasn’t even _thought_ about how his mouth tastes like dirt and dust and other things he doesn’t how to describe other than _old_.

Prying open his mouth hurts. It hurts to even attempt opening his eyes, he wants to drag his fingers across the floor, wants to kick the walls that he knows are there— he wants to _feel_ the pain of his nails scraping along the obsidian, he wants to get closer to the lava he can hear to feel the heat of it next to his face. He wants to talk, to speak back to Dream— but there’s just _so much_ sensation, how is he supposed to do this?

“You don’t have to move or say or do anything yet. Tommy had a lot of trouble with it and he was only dead a couple of days— you probably need a little more time.” 

Wilbur doesn’t know how exactly he knows, but he can just _tell—_ he can tell that Dream has looked up from his journal and is just staring at him, maybe a bit past him, he’s not entirely sure. 

He knows that Dream is in the other corner of the room, next to something that smells of warm wood. He can tell that he himself is in the relative corner of the room— probably near the water source in the floor. 

He wants so badly to see things again— envisioning things in his mind only goes so far— he tries to open his eyes. 

He blacks out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey ! leave a kudos (or comment/bookmark) if you liked it !!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a peculiar sensation on his forehead, he’s not sure what it is— but he knows that Dream is most likely standing above him. It’s probably the fourth or fifth time he’s woken up, and every single time he can’t seem to get past attempting to pry his eyes open.

“Are you awake now?” 

There’s a peculiar sensation on his forehead, he’s not sure what it is— but he knows that Dream is most likely standing above him. It’s probably the fourth or fifth time he’s woken up, and every single time he can’t seem to get past attempting to pry his eyes open. 

On one hand, he’s not scared at all of what he’ll see— he knows it already. The idea of what it looks like is already there, the lava wall, the stupid water in the hole in the floor, the chest— it’s the idea that he’s finally _back,_ finally _alive again,_ but he’s not sure if _(when)_ he’ll be able to start functioning as another living being again, that’s what scares him. 

He groans quietly— it’s about the only sound he’s been able to make, and Dream has regularly been forgetting to give him water, but when he does— _(and it's water, Dream was pouring small handfuls of water on his forehead— it's wet!)_

“‘sat wat’r?” Wilbur rasps, and they both startle slightly, neither having expected Wilbur to say any words— much less make any sounds that weren’t reminiscent of a zombie villager. 

“Uh, yea— I assume you want water, right?” Dream’s voice sounds wrecked, like his vocal cords were put through a shredder and he decided that it would be a good idea to scream at the world and just not stop.

Wilbur doesn’t want to risk his throat, in case it might get worse should he try to talk abruptly, so he nods his head softly, and his hair falls onto his forehead, his temples throbbing with the simple movement. 

Dream pours another handful of grossly lukewarm water onto Wilbur’s face and Wilbur decides to go back to sleep. 

— 

By the time he finally gets around to peeling his eyes open, something resembling a good six months has passed, but Dream says it’s only been about a little less than a week. Everything feels like such a long time ago— even when Tommy was in the void _(The void. nothingness. no light, no dark. He's decided to call it the void, for now)_ it feels like ages ago compared to now. 

He made fun of Tommy in his own sort of big-brother way, back then. When Tommy was in the void and having a small panic attack— but now it’s weird, because he’s alive again, and _Dream_ is now doing the big-brother bit and it’s _weird._

He doesn’t like it. 

“Hey, you’re awake.” 

Dream’s pen scratches against the paper. 

“No don’t— do _not_ do the silent thing with me— your throat should be much better this week. And I can hear you breathing.” 

The book shuts, the pages ruffling closed. 

“Kinda fast and— loud— actually.”

Wilbur clenches and unclenches his fists weakly. 

“Kindly shut up, Dream,” Wilbur says in a small voice, and Dream frowns behind his mask. 

Wilbur turns on his side and slowly pushes himself up to prop himself against the wall. The sensation of something cold and solid against his back, the hot air of the lava wall facing his front, it’s a mixture of heat and cold, but it’s _wet._

It’s _all_ wet— the wall is slick with cold water that’s no doubt dripping from his hair, the air is thick and humid— all too warm and sticky and— and gross. 

Wilbur has a sudden moment of hilarity where he’s simultaneously overjoyed that he can actually experience things but also _completely_ disgusted with what he was feeling in the environment in which he’s existing in. 

“Has it always been so _wet_ in here?” 

Dream pauses, in his ritualistic tidying of the area. It’s weird, for all the stale potatoes and inky paper and oily fingers, greasy hair— he sticks to a very pinpointed routine, Wilbur has noticed. 

He gets up, eats half a potato, pours a bit of water onto Wilbur’s head— that’s most likely new, to the routine— reads his journal, and then spends quite a long stretch of time writing before tidying up the area. 

Dream shrugs and returns to his routine. Wilbur breathes in shakily— he can’t help but think about how Tommy always did that. He did it when they were alive and when they were dead, too. Thinking about it now— why did they even _need_ to breathe, back then? _(They had been dead, right?)_

There’s a song that Wilbur wants to sing, but he’s not very confident in his ability to talk right now, much less sing, so he hums it instead, sometimes. It’s probably a good thing he can’t find his voice to sing anyways, he doesn’t think he knows the words, anymore.

Dream sings too, sometimes. 

It feels like an eerie melody that Dream shouldn’t know. It feels like Dream shouldn’t have those words in his mouth, they weren’t meant to be sung like that— those aren’t the words— it’s wrong, why is it wrong?

_(Those lyrics belong to him. The song is meant to be sung by him and Tommy.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey ! the brainrot is so much
> 
> leave a kudos (or a comment/bookmark) if you liked it !!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the moment he walked in to visit Dream he felt like it was something that he didn’t really want to be doing, but there are a lot of things he’s done that he didn’t particularly want to do. 
> 
> He didn’t want to die, but he’s already done that. 
> 
> The entire SMP knew he died. He’s not too sure on how to deal with that. _(It’s a problem for later, he decides.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha welcome to some tommy angst,,, i haven't caught up on the most recent lore streams because the thought of catching up on everyone's individual lore makes me anxious but also I tuned into tommy's lore stream for a couple minutes so really I still don't know whats going on, but that's ok! this story is most already non-canon compliant anyways.

Tommy doesn’t like it in here. 

From the moment he walked in to visit Dream he felt like it was something that he didn’t really want to be doing, but there are a lot of things he’s done that he didn’t particularly want to do. 

He didn’t want to die, but he’s already done that. 

The entire SMP knew he died. He’s not too sure on how to deal with that. _(It’s a problem for later, he decides.)_

On one hand, he feels like maybe they’d all welcome him back, all be happy to find out that he’s actually alive, but on the hand… On the other hand, he’s kind of maybe just a tiny bit scared that they might all be happy he’s gone, that maybe everyone’s doing better without him. 

He doesn’t want to know how everyone would react if they saw him again, Dream said everyone knew he was dead, so maybe— maybe everyone has moved on. 

As Sam leads him away from Dream’s cell, the lava falling into view, he can’t help but be a bit angry at Sam, for not helping him, for leaving him in there, for not letting him out. 

“Sam, how fuckin’ dare you— you— you left me in there— in there for fucking forever man!” Tommy yells, and Sam seems expressionless, like Tommy being there is something he can’t process, but he’s right there, he’s alive, and he’s here in front of Sam, and he’s— he’s angry. 

Sam answers back in the same calm voice Sam has always had, the same one Sam uses when Tommy has panic attacks, the same one that Tommy found so comofrting and nice, except now it just sounds like Sam doesn’t— doesn’t really _care_. 

Tommy wants— he wants to _hug_ Sam— he wants to feel Sam’s warmth, something distanced from the heat of the lava, the cold of the obsidian, the cold of _death_. 

Sam seems like he does not want to hug Tommy. 

There’s a weird sort of indifference that Sam is showing to Tommy’s revival from death, and he’s not sure if it’s a particularly good thing or bad thing. Does Sam not want Tommy to be alive? _(Tommy is scared the answer is yes.)_

He decides he doesn’t care, _(he does)_ the rest of them should be happy right?

_Right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey ! leave a kudos (or a comment/bookmark) if you liked it !

**Author's Note:**

> hey ! leave a kudos (or comment/bookmark) if you liked it !!


End file.
